Chapter 27 Care In The Holding 2

• They moved down to a point where they could see the waves crashing in on the rocks below. First they sat huddled close, as they had on the mountain, and kissed, smelled each other’s hair, felt the deep magnitude pulling between them. Then they lay down. The fog created a room for them. They couldn't see the road or the sky. Sometimes they could see the ocean, sometimes not, but always they could hear its rhythm. They held each other and rocked together. “How [ve longed for this,” Laura whispered. “I know. I know” Chana replied. Their lust flushed their faces as they lay side by side, the full length of their bodies pressed close. The fog provided privacy. The room it made for them was impersonal, without decoration. It had no square corners, no flat walls. It moved in close. A gentle kiss grew into deep passion. When they looked again, the fog had thinned and the room expanded.
• Laura felt one with her body and with the cliff they lay on. Her hand moved slowly up and down, charting the soft contours of Chana’s body, remembering the curve of her back from the last time. She followed the line of Chana’s firm thigh and pictured the gracefulness with which she must run.
• Chana pressed her pelvis closer and Laura's lust peaked in response, sending charges like lightning, sharp through her body and back to Chana. She was breathless, delirious, joyous. Chana murmured how she loved her smell, rolled on her back, and Laura rolled with her so she was on top. Laura pressed into her, tasted and smelled Chana’s neck, and inhaled deeply of the moist ocean air. She felt the hummingbird stir in her chest while her cunt both beamed a radiant heat and received the hot waves of Chana's sexual energy. Suddenly she wanted her naked. She wanted to be inside her, feeling the moisture she knew was there, wanted to have her own self known that way, free of the covering and constriction of clothes, but she knew this, just as it was, a kind of bliss, deserved its full due. Like a rose opening to full bloom, beautiful in all its stages, it had a timing of its own. She arched her head back and saw in Chana's face a desire that matched hers. How expressive that face was, how its movement reminded her of the waves below Desire charging, cresting, then ebbing back as her closed lips fell into a quiet smile, broadening her face. Time was no more distinct than the boundaries of the room—seemed long if Laura thought of how much she was alive for each one of the minutes, short in the sense that there was No more waiting, waiting was over.